


Vanilla

by absolutelyamethyst



Category: Z-O-M-B-I-E-S (Disney Movies)
Genre: and then he finds out and he's just, disturbed? these crazy humans man, it's not like he knew what everyone was freaking out over, listen wyatt just wanted ice cream okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24284146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutelyamethyst/pseuds/absolutelyamethyst
Summary: It's supposed to be simple- reconnaissance, in and out. But then the alarms go off and Wyatt finds himself stranded in Seabrook with a bunch of panicking humans and zombies. Left to wander, he finds Coach's froyo cart only to have it ripped away...A few weeks later, he convinces Addison to take him to try froyo for the first time.
Relationships: Wyatt Lykensen & Addison Wells
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> tbh I despise this, it's absolute garbage BUT it's important for me to be able to get a grip on character introspection and the right personalities and all that, so it's important garbage.

It’s a simple mission--should have been, anyway. He manages to grab his disguise easily enough--the demolition workers just leave their spare uniforms lying around--but it’s what comes after that’s hard. Sneaking around. Acting like he knows what he’s doing. But he’s smart--it’s why Willa sends him out on these missions, or at least he  _ hopes  _ it is--and he makes it work. That is until the alarms start to sound, the workers make toward the city hall, and Wyatt is left standing in the smelly, rust-crusted plant. 

He really,  _ really  _ should have thought this through. 

It’s only been a few hours since he took off his moonstone, and already he’s feeling it--the exhaustion that sits in his bones, ready to take over the moment he stops to take a breath. He has to get back to the den, and quickly. There’s no room for mistakes. 

Plan B- he sprints out of the plant and down the street, easily slipping past the frantic crowds as they run in the opposite direction, human and zombie alike. 

There are people everywhere, and the further he runs the more he realizes that nobody really knows where they’re going- everyone’s just....panicking. Running  _ “away”,  _ wherever  _ “away”  _ is. If he makes the wrong move--turns the wrong corner--he could end up swept along with everyone else, and that wouldn’t end well at all. But Seabrook is a maze--it’s impossible to see over the rooftops--and the air is thick with so many scents that the only one he’d recognize--the woodsy scent of the forest that leads back to the den--is masked entirely. 

If it were up to him, he’d duck out of here as quickly as possible, jump over whatever he had to, but that would be suspicious, right? Or is everyone too busy panicking to notice? 

_ What are they panicking over anyway? _

He ducks onto the main street, joins the crowd briefly before stopping to slip into a nearby alley, which...joins with a bigger road. With more people. Seabrook is  _ big.  _ And-

He stops. Inhales. Something smells really, really good- cold, like the way the air smells in the mornings in wintertime, but with deeper, mostly foreign scents beneath it. He looks around, scrambling to find the source…

And blinks when he locks eyes with a little pink cart sitting on the side of the street. 

The man running it is just as frenzied as everyone else around him. He’s packing up his stuff, but his attention is away from the open cart. Wyatt walks closer, peers at the array of frozen… somethings sitting inside, and moves a hand toward the empty cup sitting tauntingly off to the side- 

“Hey, no! We’re closed! Closed closed closed!” 

Wyatt stares at him. 

“There are  _ werewolves  _ on the loose,” the man wails, “my dreams of froyo-filled fame and fortune are over!” 

Everything Wyatt’s thinging, everything he’s feeling, grinds to a halt. His entire body turns cold. 

“ _ Werewolves? _ ” He echoes, his shock what the man must be expecting because he nods, stands, and claps the lid of the cart down and locks it into place. 

“Werewolves,” he affirms, shifting the cart forward an inch. “I was gonna make it big with this froyo cart,” he mumbles again, sighing. “I was gonna make it big!”

_ Froyo.  _ He’s not sure what that is, but it sounds good, and it smells good, and that’s all Wyatt needs, really. “I just-”

“Hello?  _ Werewolves  _ are bloodthirsty monsters,” the man says, “they eat human flesh! Closing the city is best for all of us.” But he casts an uneasy glance in the direction of the zombies running into their homes, and Wyatt knows he doesn’t believe it, not really. 

They stand in silence for a second. Wyatt’s heart is racing-  _ bloodthirsty monsters?  _ Is that really what they’re teaching people? They don’t eat human flesh, they’re peaceful, they’re-

“Kid, you’d better get home before they start patrolling the streets,” the man says. “I’m sure your parents are worried sick-”

Wyatt turns away, jogs off before he can hear the rest of what he says. 

_ His parents.  _ It’s a simple mistake to make, really- there’s no way he could’ve  _ known  _ that his parents are gone. Wyatt’s heart hurts anyway. 

Heartbroken  _ and  _ froyo-less. A terrible day all around. 

“Hey, mister?” Someone tugs on his arm and seriously, he’d like to be able to take  _ one step  _ before having to talk to  _ another human.  _

“Yeah?” He looks around, then looks down. The little girl next to him is small enough that he has to kneel down to look her in the eyes. 

“I was wondering if you’d seen any werewolves around,” says the girl, her gaze panning away from him and to the tacks in her hand. Deftly, she pins a drawing--a crude thing, a bunch of scribbles that come together to form a spiky howling shape--to the board before looking back at Wyatt. “I’m looking for a werewolf friend,” she adds, and Wyatt can  _ actually feel  _ his heart melt. 

This kid- she’s probably being told to believe the same thing as everyone else, right? That werewolves are monsters, that they’re  _ bloodthirsty  _ and  _ flesh-eating,  _ and yet she’s here, lonely, looking  _ specifically for someone like him.  _ Maybe...maybe not everyone in Seabrook is bad. Maybe-

No. He can’t keep standing here wishing he could change how everyone thinks. He has to go. So the lie spills out of his mouth effortlessly, and though the girl is sharp, he manages to get away without another interaction. 

The woods, mercifully, are free of humans. 

He runs along the familiar paths and tries to push the words ringing through his head-- _ ”monster, bloodthirsty”-- _ away as he heads toward home. 

They’ve been exposed. 

They have a lot of work to do.


End file.
